It took a day and a half of rattling ride to reach Virsel. Although I sat in a carriage padded with pillows, I was still relieved when we arrived and I could stretch in the fresh cold autumn wind, which played with my hair like a cat with a ball of yarn.
Mother received me immediately in a small, cozy salon. That surprised me; I had expected to find her hunched over paperwork in her study, as she always had been for the past few years. But no, she was sitting in a large purple armchair that nearly swallowed her tiny figure. It seemed to me she had aged several more years since the last time we saw each other—and that had only been a few months ago. She smiled at me kindly and gestured for me to sit on the couch opposite her. I obeyed and sat down a bit nervously.
"I'm so glad to see you again, Mnou," she began in a conversational tone. "You look well. How are you doing at school?"
I frowned slightly. I didn't understand why we were talking about such trivialities when she had written that she needed to discuss something urgent. Still, I decided to play along with this little game. At least for a while. So, I calmly replied:
"I'm doing well. We've just started studying the reformed poets of the 14th century. It's very interesting." The truth was that I barely listened to the lectures.
"Oh, I believe that. I hope I haven't disrupted your studies by calling you here. I'd be very sorry if you missed anything important."
"It's all right. I'll borrow notes from some friends," I lied.
Mother nodded and smiled a little sadly. I think she knew all too well that I didn't have any friends. An awkward silence followed. I watched the branches of almost-bare trees swaying in the wind outside the window. The few remaining leaves clung on desperately. I could feel her eyes on me. It seemed like she was summoning the courage to say why she had called me here. When still nothing happened, I was just about to look her in the eye and ask directly. I opened my mouth, and at that moment, she said:
"Mnou, we need to talk about something more serious now."
I tensed involuntarily and cautiously glanced toward the figure in front of me. She was looking at me with serious gray-blue eyes.
"I know… I know you might not like this at first, but please, hear me out. I'm doing this for you."
I stayed silent but returned her gaze.
"You know very well how much the future of this house worries me, but maybe not in the way you think. I don't need fame or prestige for the House of di Cortello. That means nothing to me now. If only your father could hear me now…" She muttered the last sentence more to herself. Again, she gave me a troubled smile. "What I want is for you to live a happy and free life. I really didn't want to burden you with this, but disaster is looming. I can barely hold everything together, and I'm afraid I won't be able to for much longer. It can't go on like this. At this pace, it will be the end of the di Cortello family. And that's why… that's why I've arranged a marriage for you."
She could no longer look at me. Her eyes dropped to the thick carpet beneath our feet. The wrinkles on her face deepened and she seemed to age another ten years. I just stared at her in silence, trying to comprehend what I had heard.
"Mom… are you serious?" I whispered, as if it weren't already painfully obvious.
"It's one of the Torquignan twins. He's a good and handsome boy. He's eighteen. Nothing is final yet, but—"
"No. You can't be serious, right?" I repeated my foolish question. "You want to sell me for a handful of gold, like some cattle at a market?"
"No, it's not like that," Gismonda di Cortello pleaded. "You're my little girl, of course I would never sell you to anyone."
"But you did—you just said so!" I felt a wave of bitter anger. My eyes began to sting with tears.
"I… I know it may disgust you and you don't understand how I could do something like this to you, but believe me, please believe me, I'm doing it for you."
"For me?! Stop lying to my face and admit that you're as blind as father! Do you really think I'm just as blind?! Do you think I can't see that you're doing this just for money?! When did you become such a selfish monster?!"
"Please, just meet him once. Just give it a chance. He… he really is a kind young man." Now Mother was only whispering, and tears streamed down her face.
"Why are you crying?! Why should you be crying when I'm the one you're discarding?!" I was furious and didn't know what I was saying. My teeth clenched; my vision blurred with tears. I jumped to my feet and headed for the entrance. I knew I couldn't stay in that room another minute.
"No, wait, Mnou. Please wait! I won't… I won't force you into it. Just please stay, and we'll talk everything through." As she hurried after me, she tripped over a table and fell. Luckily, onto the soft carpet. She lay there and looked up at me helplessly. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
I had the urge to run to her, to help her. To fix everything. To make up for the years of separation and misunderstanding. But I hesitated. And in that single moment, my courage crumbled, and I couldn't bear to look at her hunched figure any longer. As I stood in the doorway, I managed to whisper: "If you still want to sell me, go ahead. I can't stop you. But… I won't be happy. Never. And I thought you truly loved me…"
As I ran down the corridor, I heard sobbing behind me from the salon and my name being called. I covered my ears and kept running through the dark hallways.
Less than two weeks later, I learned that an outbreak of typhus had struck Virsel. The city was almost immediately sealed off in strict quarantine. It became an isolated capsule, and just few knew what was really happening inside. Rumours spread. Some said it was nothing serious and would pass in a few days, while others described streets filled with the dead and smoke rising from pyres of corpses visible from afar. No one knew what to believe. There was a tense atmosphere in all the surrounding towns.
Quenti fortunately escaped the disaster entirely. There were very strict inspections and quarantines for merchants and visitors. I shuddered at the thought that I had visited Virsel just days before. I wasn't sure about the incubation period, so I stayed shut in my room for days, fearing the worst. In those hours of solitude and silence, I couldn't stop thinking about my mother and what I had said to her. Though the flame of disagreement and outrage still burned inside me, with time I began to realize that maybe… maybe she really had done it for me. What scared me the most, though, was the thought that I might never find out. That I might never speak with her again or explain how I'd felt all those years. I longed to see her more than ever before. That longing followed me everywhere and I couldn't shake it. One day, my wandering led me to a church. I knelt on the cold, colourful tiles before the altar and joined my hands in a pleading gesture. I had never prayed before, and never again. I begged God to save my mother. I begged and begged, until the light of day faded outside, and my knees were raw and sore. No one answered. No one replied.
The next day, news reached the town that the quarantine in Virsel had been lifted. The epidemic was over. I ignored the possible danger and immediately got into a carriage and headed there.
The city was half empty. As if everyone feared the Grim Reaper still walked the streets. Those I did see wore expressions of relief that the nightmare was finally over, but their eyes still showed the horrors they had endured. I pulled the velvet curtain shut and sank into the seat. I didn't want to look. My stomach twisted in knots.
When the carriage finally jolted and stopped on the cobblestone driveway, I didn't wait for the driver to help me down the steps—I jumped out at once.
The villa looked completely deserted and abandoned. The garden was overgrown and buried in piles of leaves. An ominous silence reigned. With my heart pounding, I rushed inside. The large front door groaned as it opened, like a sinister laugh. Then silence returned—briefly—before it was broken by my calls: "Hello? Is anyone here? Mother! Mom! Hello?!"
No response.
I wandered the hallways as if I were already dead too. It was deserted. Completely deserted. Where is everyone? Where are you all? I knew the answer and was afraid of it. Then, from the end of the hallway, came a creak.
A pale face timidly peeked out from behind a door. It took me a moment to recognize her. It was the cook, Asha. She had always been kind to me. When I was little, she used to sneak me sweets after dinner. I remembered her as a cheerful, round woman. Now she was gaunt, pale, and trembling. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"Young lady? Young lady, is… is it really you?"
Her thin, trembling voice was barely audible. I rushed to her and gently took her hands.
"Asha," I whispered. I felt like crying when I saw her in such a state.
"Young lady, I'm so glad you're safe." She began to sob uncontrollably. I stroked her gently to comfort her. When she had calmed down a bit, I asked as carefully as I could, though my voice still shook:
"You… you're the only one who…?" I couldn't finish the question.
She shook her head and began wiping her tears. "Corline survived, and Nadina, Charene, Coldrin, and…" She stared blankly past me. She seemed to be trying to remember more names.
"What about my mother? Is she all right?" My throat tightened and I stared intently at the broken woman.
Asha lowered her eyes and began to cry again. Amidst her sobs, I could make out only a few words, but they were enough. "The mar… mar… marchioness didn't… make it. She… she died as one of the fi… first. They threw her on the py… pyre with the others. We couldn't even… even bury her."
Her words felt like they were coming from far away. I kept staring at her, but in truth, my mother's smiling face floated before my eyes. The wrinkles deepened, but it didn't matter. She looked so kind and beautiful. I reached toward her, but my fingers touched just Asha's cheeks, wet from crying.
"Asha, could you go out to the carriage?" I mumbled.
"But my lady, I can't… I can't leave you here alone," she protested weakly.
"It's all right, please. I need to be alone for a moment."
The cook obediently shuffled down the hall. I just stood there, staring at the wall. My mind was blank. Not a single coherent thought. Just moments ago, I had heard that my mother was dead. But that can't be true, can it? She can't just disappear from my life. Did she not really love me? Were you really such a selfish coward to leave me here alone, Mom?
Then I heard her voice. It didn't say anything specific, yet I heard it clearly in my mind. Loud and clear. I exhaled in relief. Mom! I knew you were still here somewhere. I followed the voice. Passed one empty room after another. All I heard was that voice. I opened the doors and stepped into the garden. Everything was dry and dead. In the middle stood a tree. A maple. I had never paid much attention to it before, but now it was calling me. Calling in my mother's voice, and I went. Quietly and obediently. I stood beneath it, hypnotized. I was buried in multi-coloured leaves. The roots whispered, the trunk whispered, the branches and twigs whispered, the leaves whispered. It wasn't the wind. It was her voice.
I touched the smooth bark and ran my fingers across it. It was beautifully warm. I placed my other hand against the trunk and for a moment felt the power pulsing through the tree. My hands moved to a thick branch, pulled gently—and it snapped off. It cracked softly. No louder than the leaves beneath my feet. I stared at the object in my hand. For a moment longer, I could still hear the voice, but then it too faded. Nothing remained but the wind rushing through the crown.
In that moment, I realized it. My mother had truly died. She was gone. I would never be able to talk to her again. I would never be able to say sorry.
I dropped to my knees and a cry of pain tore from my mouth, echoing through the emptiness of the garden.